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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477907">one small act of caring</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/pseuds/elisela'>elisela</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>No Sincerer Love [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>9-1-1 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort No Hurt, Fluff, M/M, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:01:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24477907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/pseuds/elisela</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eddie’s voice is nothing more than a rasp over the phone line, and Buck suppresses a sigh. He loves his boyfriend—he may tell him that often but it’s true, it’s been true since the day Eddie kissed him softly in the kitchen, it’s been true since he brought Christopher into his apartment the day after the tsunami, it’s probably been true since he saw the way Eddie ran to his son after the earthquake and scooped him up in his arms—but there’s one thing Buck wishes he could avoid, and that’s Eddie with a cold.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>No Sincerer Love [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714489</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>436</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>one small act of caring</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinningincircles/gifts">spinningincircles</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well yesterday we had "hurt no comfort" and today we have "comfort no hurt"! Lauren is the sweetest and I will write stories for her forever. In my head this is part of No Sincerer Love but it can be read as standalone.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Buck.”</p><p>Eddie’s voice is nothing more than a rasp over the phone line, and Buck suppresses a sigh. He loves his boyfriend—he may tell him that often but it’s true, it’s been true since the day Eddie kissed him softly in the kitchen, it’s been true since he brought Christopher into his apartment the day after the tsunami, it’s probably been true since he saw the way Eddie ran to his son after the earthquake and scooped him up in his arms—but there’s one thing Buck wishes he could avoid, and that’s Eddie with a cold.</p><p>Actual sickness? That’s fine. He’ll love and fawn all over him, tuck him in when he needs rest, run the shower on the hottest setting until the bathroom resembles a steam room; he’ll do whatever Eddie needs, and he’ll do it happily.</p><p>Eddie with a cold? Nightmare. He’s alert enough to wave the idea of sleep aside, but whiny and demanding about the little things, and finicky enough to change said demands every ten seconds until inevitably, Buck feels like strangling him. </p><p>Usually, Buck can go home after a few hours of catering to Eddie’s whims and revel in the blissful silence of his house, away from any whining, keeping in touch with Eddie by text. But now they live together, and unless Buck wants to make up a Maddie related emergency, he has nowhere to hide. </p><p>(It’s not that he’s above faking an emergency, but—it’s probably better to save for when he really needs it). </p><p>He flops down on the chair opposite Bobby, hanging up the phone. “Cap, how’s Eddie’s sick leave looking?”</p><p>Bobby raises an eyebrow. “You can’t put in leave for him, Buck.”</p><p>He shrugs. “I’ll try to make him call later but you know you’re only punishing yourself. He’ll show up for his shift, cough everywhere, and argue with you when you try to send him home.” He tips the chair so he’s balancing on the back legs, waiting, refusing to break eye contact with Bobby. </p><p>Bobby sighs. “Don’t let him come in, I’ll take care of it. I can cover for you tomorrow if you need to stay home with him but anything more than that—“</p><p>“Nope,” he says quickly. “Tomorrow’s fine, thanks, Bobby.”</p><p>“Let us know if you need anything,” Bobby says, dropping his eyes back to the book in front of him but not before a small smile graces his face, which is the picture of barely concealed amusement. Unfortunately, what Buck needs most is a good dose of patience, and he’s not sure his team will be able to help with that. </p>
<hr/><p>One phone call and three stops later, Buck stands on the front porch and takes a deep breath before shifting the tupperware in his hand to the crook of his elbow, freeing up a hand to reach for the doorknob. The house is quiet; he goes straight to the kitchen and dumps everything he’s holding on the counter, taking everything out of the bags to find the bag of tea he had picked up from Abuela. He and Eddie are coffee drinkers; if there’s tea in the house it’s so old that he doesn’t want to think about it. </p><p>It doesn’t take long to make the tea and soon he’s heading towards the bedroom quietly, unwilling to wake Eddie if he’s sleeping. His heart catches in his chest when he sees Eddie sprawled out, belly down, across the bed, one leg hanging off, blanket pushed to Buck’s side. The tea is hot in his hands, ceramic burning the tips of his fingers, but he hesitates on the threshold, watching Eddie with what is likely a ridiculously love-sick look on his face if the feeling in his chest is anything to go by.</p><p>Eventually he tires of shifting the mug from one hand to the other and walks into the bedroom with measured, soft footsteps, setting the tea on the nightstand and sitting on the edge of the bed. Eddie’s hair is getting longer; it glides through his fingers like silk when he presses his palm to Eddie’s forehead and then up and through his hair, repeating the motion until Eddie makes a soft, snuffling sound. He rests his hand against the back of his head, rubs his thumb over the scruff under Eddie’s ear before leaning down and kissing his cheek softly.</p><p>Eddie’s eyes are still closed, but Buck watches his mouth curve up into a small smile. “Buck,” Eddie says, his voice rough, sleepy. “Missed you.”</p><p>Buck’s hand stills; he feels suddenly, intensely guilty for his internal monologue of complaints about Eddie and his inability to handle the common cold earlier, and resolves to be as loving and accommodating as possible while his boyfriend isn’t feeling well. “I missed you too, sweetheart,” he says, leaning down to kiss his cheek again. “I made some tea, I think you should drink it. Your voice isn’t sounding so good.”</p><p>Eddie hums consent but doesn’t move until Buck nudges at him a few times and then starts to slide his arms around Eddie to lift him. He grumbles slightly as he moves his arms to support his weight and sits up, immediately leaning against Buck. </p><p>“It’s hot,” Buck warns, passing the mug to Eddie’s waiting hands. He waits for a comment, a complaint about being treated like a child, but Eddie just brings it to his mouth and sips at it, inhaling the steam that still rises out of the top. Buck keeps a hand on his back, steadying him as he drinks, sliding his arm down around Eddie’s waist when he starts coughing. </p><p>“S’Abuela’s tea,” Eddie says when it’s almost gone. “You see her?”</p><p>“Yeah, she gave me some pretty strict instructions,” Buck says, plucking the empty mug from Eddie’s hands and returning it to the nightstand. “But she also had uh—I don’t really know how to say it but I’m pretty sure it’s chicken soup. Smelled really good.”</p><p>Eddie groans. “Let me guess—“ he stops to cough, the deep chest rattle type that sends the irrational part of Buck’s brain into overdrive—“vivaporu?”</p><p>“Sorry,” Buck says ruefully. “I know you don’t like it, but she made me promise.” He slides his hand to Eddie’s back and rubs it slowly. “How about a hot shower, then we can go watch something? I can make more tea or heat up the soup while you shower.”</p><p>“Tea,” Eddie croaks out. </p><p>Buck moves his hand up to Eddie’s head, scratching gently behind one of his ears before he kisses him once more and stands up. He gets the shower running and stuffs a towel along the slightly warped windowsill, hoping it helps hold the steam in, and goes back into the bedroom where Eddie once again sprawled out on the bed. It takes a few moments to coax him up, and then Buck can’t resist just holding him for a few minutes, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and pulling him in, cupping his hand around the back of Eddie’s warm neck. </p><p>“Sorry you don’t feel good,” he says quietly, pressing soft, lingering kisses to Eddie’s temple. </p><p>Eddie huffs into his neck, and Buck squeezes him just a little tighter before letting go and leading him into the bathroom. He ignores the way Eddie looks at him in fond disbelief when Buck takes the hem of his t-shirt and strips it off, pulling it gently over Eddie’s head and tossing it towards the hamper before sliding his fingers under the waistband of Eddie’s boxers and pushing them down. </p><p>He’s a little surprised, honestly, that Eddie allows this—Eddie, who tries so hard to manage everything himself, who is gentle and loving and warm with Buck but has a difficult time accepting that love for himself sometimes—allows Buck to hold him like he’s delicate, like he’s far more in need of care than a cold would demand; that all those walls come crashing down over something so ordinary. </p><p>Buck shuts the bathroom door firmly behind him, throws the towel he liberated from its spot under the sink into the dryer and cranks it on high heat. He spends time cleaning up after Christopher’s morning mess, loading the dishwasher. sweeping up the spilled cereal, and sorting through the week’s worth of mail that had been dumped onto the table last night before sticking heating up another mug of water in the microwave and dropping the tea in to steep. The towel is warm coming out of the dryer, which he leaves open in his haste to get to the bathroom. </p><p>Eddie’s leaned back against the tiled wall when Buck reaches in to turn the water off, smiles when the towel is wrapped around him and sighs. “You didn’t have to do that,” he says, though by the look on his face, he’s grateful; he looks like he could happily stay in the bathroom for the rest of the day. </p><p>“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispers into Eddie’s ear, gently rubbing his hair with another towel as Eddie’s arms come around his waist. He drapes the second towel across Eddie’s shoulders and steps out of his embrace, holding the bathroom door open. The air is cool against the steam that’s settled onto his skin and he leaves Eddie to get himself dressed, heading back into the kitchen. </p><p>Eddie’s already on the couch when he carries the tea and the vapor rub out to the living room. The groan Eddie gives when he spots the small blue container makes Buck grin, earning him a displeased look. “Could you just tell Abuela we did this?” Eddie asks, and Buck shakes his head, handing the tea over.</p><p>“Not a chance,” he answers. He kneels down in front of Eddie, tugging his socks off—Eddie never wears socks in the house; it’s clearly an effort to avoid being rubbed down with cough suppressant. Buck scoops some out of the jar, mindful of Abuela’s direction to spread it thick, and starts smearing it on the sole of Eddie’s foot. He glances up, about to remind Eddie to drink his tea, and stops.</p><p>Eddie’s crying.</p><p>“Does it hurt?” he asks, lifting Eddie’s foot up and peering at it. If there’s a cut, the menthol could be irritating it—not something Eddie would typically shed tears over but—</p><p>“God,” Eddie says with a self-deprecating chuckle, though the effect is ruined by a bout of coughing. “No, it’s—Abuela used to do this, when I was a kid. She’d boil a pot of water and make me sit in front of it with a towel over my head to hold in the steam, force feed me caldo de pollo and a gallon of that tea. It just—” he stops, tilting his head up towards the ceiling, and Buck drops his gaze, giving him privacy. After four years, he thinks he has a pretty good Eddie translator in his head.</p><p>It just makes him feel cared for, feel loved.</p><p>It’s not something they’ve said to each other often; three times in the eight months they’ve been together, the words such a rarity that Buck could describe the circumstances and sound of Eddie’s voice in vivid, exquisite detail. It bothered him, at first; he’s used to the words as a reassurance, as a promise, but Buck’s heard declarations of love from a dozen people who have inevitably left him, so maybe that’s why it’s different with Eddie. Eddie’s declarations are solid and meaningful: allowing him to pull Chris out of school early after a solid two weeks of not being able to see him, dropping the book Buck had been looking forward to finishing by the station despite it being completely out of his way, making sure he always has a clean uniform and extra clothes in his work bag. All the little things Eddie does every day to make Buck’s day easier, to make him happy—they’re worth so much more than words.</p><p>He slides the socks back on Eddie’s feet and moves to sit on the couch, shuffling until they’re in a comfortable position; Eddie’s head in his lap, facing the television, while Buck continues slathering the gel on his chest, clamping his free hand down on Eddie’s forehead when he tries to wiggle away from having it smeared on his nose. He wipes his hand off on the kitchen towel he’d wrapped the steaming tea mug in, tosses it on back onto the coffee table. </p><p>“What else did Abuela do?” he asks.</p><p>There’s a few moments of silence, then quietly, “I’d lay like this and she would play with my hair while we watched television. She liked those telenovelas, you know, the soap operas? There was one she would watch and as soon as it was over she’d make me eat lunch while she called her friends and they talked about the show.”</p><p>“Sounds perfect,” he says, settling his hand into Eddie’s hair and scratching lightly at his scalp. He reaches for the remote with his free hand and clicks through until he finds Univision. </p><p>Eddie shakes his head. “You’re not gonna understand a single word,” he says. “Find something else.”</p><p>“I’ll be fine,” Buck says, waving at the screen. “Look, I’m pretty sure this isn’t a good dude, hear that music? I’ve got it. Just rest, Eddie.” They’re quite for awhile, and then, because Buck is still a little thrown off by all this, if he’s being honest, he says, “you know, you’re usually much more cranky when you’re sick. I’m glad to see you’re finally maturing.”</p><p>Eddie snorts, reaches up and grabs Buck’s hand, moving it from his hair and interlacing their fingers. “Never could get what I really wanted before,” he says, tugging Buck’s hand down until he rests it over his heart. “Nothing to complain about, now.”</p><p>There’s not enough room in his chest for how his heart expands with Eddie’s words, with the way he’s holding their clasped hands against his heart. “I’ll always give you what you want, sweetheart,” he says, moving his free hand back to Eddie’s hair. </p><p>He’ll have to get up soon to pick Chris up from school, but for now Buck doesn’t move, doesn’t draw his hands away, doesn’t stop touching, just keeps Eddie anchored to him and watches a show he knows nothing about while Eddie falls deeper into sleep. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>PS: Buck becomes obsessed with the show and he and Abuela talk about it constantly and try to watch it together at least once a week (Abuela tells him about all the plot lines because even when Buck starts learning Spanish, it moves too quickly for him to follow). In my head it's <i>Corazón Salvaje</i> and we're pretending it's still on the air.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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